


butterfly wings

by demonicneonfishy



Series: february angst-fest (febuwhump 2021) [19]
Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Gen, Insomnia, Minor Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova, Post-Canon, sometimes you just need to vent while baking at 1am
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-19
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-15 20:41:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29564865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/demonicneonfishy/pseuds/demonicneonfishy
Summary: “Feels like every time I try to close my eyes all I can see is the people in the lab, or- or Quynh.”
Relationships: Nile Freeman & Nicky | Nicolo di Genoa
Series: february angst-fest (febuwhump 2021) [19]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2141784
Comments: 2
Kudos: 44





	butterfly wings

**Author's Note:**

> day 19 of febuwhump 2021  
> prompt: sleep deprivation

Nile wakes gasping for air, Quynh’s silent screams burned into her mind, the way she always seems to now. If not Quynh, it’s the people she killed in the lab, the man who killed her, over and over again.

She can’t remember the last time she slept a full night.

Unable to stand the dark of her room after the dark at the bottom of the ocean, she gets out of bed and leaves.

There’s a faint light coming from the kitchen, and Nile walks toward it, wondering who else is awake. 

It’s Nicky, standing in front of the counter with his back to Nile. “Can’t sleep?” he asks without turning around.

“Can’t stay asleep,” she responds. It’s been days, and she’s so tired.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He gestures for her to sit down, and she does, dropping onto one of the stools by the counter.

“I don’t know,” she says. “Feels like every time I try to close my eyes all I can see is the people in the lab, or- or Quynh.”

Nicky hums sympathetically as he sets about making tea. 

“And it’s just… tiring, you know? I don’t think I’ve slept a full night since Goussainville, and I know this probably won’t last forever, but… I just want to be able to  _ sleep _ again.”

“It will get easier,” Nicky says. “It can be… difficult, at first, but it will get better. I can promise you that.”

“Does it ever go away completely? The - the guilt.” 

“No. If we were completely unaffected by what we do, we would no longer be human. But you will be able to sleep again, in time. Here.” He slides a mug of tea along the counter towards her. “This will help.”

“Thank you.” It does help, a little, the warmth helping to soothe her.

Nicky gives her a small smile. “You’re welcome.”

“What are you doing awake?”

Nicky shrugs and returns to whatever he was doing when she came in. “I cannot sleep either.”

“We should form a club. Insomniac Immortals. Hey, that sounds kind of like a band name.”

“I can play the guitar,” Nicky offers. “And a few other things.”

“Well, I can’t play anything, so that’s a small problem with the plan.”

“You have time to learn.”

“I guess I do.” She stares into her mug as if she’ll find the answers to all her questions there.

“Have you made bread before?”

The question surprises her, and she looks up. “Yeah, a couple times with my mom. Why?”

“Would you like to come over here and knead this?” Nicky asks, pointing at the lump of dough on the counter. 

“Sure.”

Nicky smiles, and steps aside to make room for her at the counter. The repetitive movement is grounding, and she wonders if that’s why Nicky asked her to help.

“Can I ask you a question?” she asks.

“Of course.”

“You and Joe, how did that… happen?”

“Ah.” Nicky smiles. “It’s a long story. I was not a good person back then, but he still showed me kindness. We were the only ones who could possibly understand each other, even if we hated each other, and so we stayed together. There were times I thought he would leave, and times I nearly did, but neither of us did, so…” Nicky shrugs. “It’s difficult to explain. It happened because we both wanted it to, and we stay together because we choose to.”

“You two are lucky.”

Nicky tilts his head. “Perhaps. But I do not believe luck has much to do with it.”

They work in companionable silence for a while, Nile kneading while Nicky rolls out another lump of dough - cookie dough this time. It almost reminds her of weekend mornings baking with her family, and she feels the familiar pang of homesickness.

“What are you making now?” she asks, to distract herself.

Nicky is hunched over the counter, carefully cutting shapes in the cookie dough with a knife. “I forget the English. Farfalle? Butterflies?”

“Can I see?”

He straightens and moves slightly so she can see. Sure enough, he’s already created two tiny dough butterflies, with one half-formed. 

“They’re beautiful,” she says, and Nicky smiles. “Why butterflies?”

“I like them,” Nicky says simply. “I’ll let Joe ice them in the morning.”

“Is baking in the middle of the night something you do a lot?”

“When I can’t sleep.” He returns to cutting out butterflies. “Helps with the… restlessness, I think is the word. You’re welcome to help any time, if you want to.”

“Thank you,” she says.

(They stay up, sometimes talking, sometimes quiet, until dawn. In the morning, Joe ices Nicky’s butterfly wings, each different from the last. And every night from then on, Nicky is there when Nile can’t sleep to offer advice, or just the opportunity to talk, while they bake together.)

(After a while, it starts to feel like home.)

(After a little while longer, Nile is able to sleep again.)

**Author's Note:**

> i know this is a deviation from the prompt with minimal angst i just wanted an excuse to write nicky and nile bonding over baking at 1am  
> -  
> i'm demonicneonfishy on tumblr too if you wanna come say hi!! (or yell at me for the angst)


End file.
